Two Sides of the Same Coin
by KrisEleven
Summary: A collection of one-shots focused on Arthur and Merlin's relationship: mostly canon-compliant. Chapter 5, Balanced: A careless mistake had revealed his secret. Arthur saw the magic – the lies – and wouldn't, couldn't, see past them. After the anger and accusations ran out, they'd been left in suffocating silence.
1. Unwelcome Lessons

**A/N **Welcome to my collection of Arthur/Merlin centric stories! I am sure you are going to be very happy here. :) They don't have any particular order, but I will introduce the episode that inspired each piece and when it is set at the beginning of each chapter, as well as the summary so you can browse as you will. Enjoy, review, leave requests for chapters if you like. This first chapter takes place immediately following the events of 1.1

**Summary: **Prince Arthur is unhappy with the appointment of his new (useless, bumbling, disrespectful!) manservant and has an ineffective temper tantrum while working out just why that is.

* * *

Arthur threw his belt and kicked one of his boots off, watching as it flew errantly to hit a chair. Slamming the door behind him, he stomped into his chambers. The sought-after effect was lost slightly, as he was wearing only one boot, and he ended up feeling like a lop-sided fool.

This whole episode wasn't easing his anger, for some reason.

_How_ that brainless_,_ bumbling_... buffoon_ had managed to save _him_, Arthur Pendragon, was beyond even the necessity of posing the question. Pure luck, or some brief, momentary lapse in his idiocy had allowed him that.

But yes, all right, if that _Merlin_ hadn't jumped forward, Arthur would have been done for. And, okay, the idiot had acted quickly and put himself in danger to save Arthur's life, but Arthur was his Prince: he was _supposed_ to do that sort of thing. It didn't make him _special_.

"_You can't talk to me like that," Arthur had said after this _nobody _had mocked him, something only Morgana dared to do._

"_Sorry," the boy said, looking down as if contrite. "How long have you been training to be a prat –" He had bowed slightly and looked up to meet Arthur's gaze, then, smiling and unafraid. "-my Lord?"_

Arthur kicked off his other boot. It flew toward the window, but fell far short. Fine, he could admit that part of his anger at Merlin was that Arthur had been thoroughly embarrassed during the match that had followed. He had looked at it as his duty to teach the country bumpkin the ways of Camelot, pretending that the buzzing in his head wasn't an embarrassed anger, pretending that he wasn't slightly... not nervous, no of course not but... set off balance, by this stranger's nerve. And if it was through _absolutely no skill_ of Merlin's that the match had gone awry, he had still made mistakes only a rookie could overlook. No amount of stocks or cells for his ridiculous opponent could mitigate that embarrassment.

Probably because it was only that he _was_Prince that he could throw Merlin in the stocks or cells at all... which may have been exactly what Merlin had been getting at, in the first place.

"Dammit," Arthur muttered, sitting on his bed and putting his head in his hands. He did _not_ want to agree with that – that _prat._

"_Hey, come on; that's enough."_

Arthur remembered the relief and embarrassment and... fear on the page's face and knew Merlin was right, no matter how he hated to admit it, even just to himself. It had gone beyond a joke, to pick on someone who could not fight back, not only because Arthur was stronger and better trained, but because Arthur was _Prince_ and he did things like throw people in the stocks for defying him.

And _that _was what irked him so, because it was one thing to fail to teach someone a lesson. It was another entirely to figure out too late that it was _their lesson_ he should have been learning.

Arthur threw himself back on his bed. It didn't _matter_, anyway, because _Merlin_ was _idiotic _and _disrespectful _and _a complete idiot_ and he was going to be the worst manservant ever.


	2. The Fickle Nature of Trust

**A/N** This was inspired from quotes from episode 2 of season 1, and takes place in an unspecified time in or after the last season. Oh, and: my god... I am so depressing.

**Summary**: Uther had once asked his son, "How can you trust a man who's lied to you?" You can't. Of course you can't... but it's not that simple.

* * *

Merlin knew that he could not protect his secrets forever. One day, all of the half-truths and outright lies he had told to keep his magic hidden would come crashing down around him. Merlin didn't know whether it would be because Arthur had fulfilled prophesy and united the lands of Albion, or because some mistake on Merlin's part would lead to his discovery. On his good days, he could hope ardently for the former; he could almost see a future in which magic was free, again, and the hate and pain could stop for all of them.

On his bad days, Merlin was sure that it would be the latter... after all, his luck could not last forever. There had been too many close calls and too many people held – unknowingly – all the pieces that made up the truth of him for _no one_ to see through it, eventually. In the midst of a crisis or when someone came _that_ close to finding out about his hidden life, Merlin's greatest fear was that he would be found out too early for anyone to trust him again.

On the worst days, in the dog watches of the nights when he could not hide from the whispers in his heart, Merlin knew it probably wouldn't matter which path took him to his revelation. Because no matter how his lies were revealed... the result would be the same, in the end.

He had known this for a long time, though he only thought of it when he was alone in the dark. Long ago, he and Arthur had had one of their first truly honest conversations, when Merlin had ousted Sir Valiant as an imposter with deadly intentions. Arthur had spoken to the court against Valiant, for all that Merlin had said, and he was disgraced for it. When Merlin could not provide reasons for his accusations, Arthur had dismissed him from his service. "I need a servant I can trust," he had said, angry and disappointed and more adult than Merlin had ever seen him.

Arthur could trust Merlin with his throne, with his kingdom, and with his life and they would be as safe in Merlin's hands as in his own. Because Merlin _lived_ for Arthur. He had duties to Gaius, and love for the physician and for his mother, for Gwen and Gwaine – but they always took second place to his king. It was something Merlin didn't think on too often; like breathing, it came naturally.

Naturally only until one paid attention to it, and then the rhythm was thrown off.

Because though he lived to keep Arthur safe, and to guide him to his destiny, Merlin had been lying to Arthur since the day they had met. Never once, when it truly mattered, did Merlin tell his friend the truth. All the pieces that made up who Merlin really was were missing in Arthur's understanding of him. His king did not know about the isolation of growing up with a deadly secret, and the importance of Will as his one friend who _knew_ who he was. He couldn't know what it had been like to lose Freya, to lay her to rest, alone. Or know that when Merlin had sat outside all night during Arthur's vigil for Uther, that he had done so knowing what it was like to have your father die in your arms. Arthur didn't know of all the dangers Merlin had faced, the fears he had overcome, the secrets and plots and manipulations he had uncovered... because Merlin had hidden them all away and had shown only one part of himself.

Merlin could be terrifyingly dark. He carried within himself a power that most couldn't begin to comprehend; with a thought he could beat five knights of Camelot, with a word he could down an army in dragon's flame. He had defeated sorcerers with centuries of power in their grasp, had broken spells that spanned kingdoms, had saved countless lives... and most of this done on reflex and instinct. With the time to research a spell... his power was limitless. And anything that was limitless was frightening.

Merlin could be unbelievably good. He willingly sacrificed himself for others and was fearless in the face of danger when it meant that he was doing something _right_. He honestly didn't see the differences in people, didn't understand why _those_ people should suffer or _those_people should go without because they were born a certain way, or believed a different thing... or practiced magic. He saw beyond the fears that held other people trapped by prejudice or tradition. He saw the good in everything because he was connected to everything; his magic touched it all.

The part of himself Merlin gave to Camelot was a pale shadow of what he was, whole. And though Arthur suspected there was more to his friend, it was still the only part Merlin had ever shown him.

Uther had once asked his son, "How can you trust a man who has lied to you?"

You can't. Of course you can't... but it's not that simple.

Everything Merlin did was in Arthur's interest. Everything he did was to keep Camelot and its king safe. All of his sacrifices, and all of his lies; all of his _life_ for so many years had been with one goal in mind. And he knew, staring into the dark with only his fears for company, that his final sacrifice, his greatest one, would be his friendship with Arthur, at the end of it all.

The truth - though Arthur didn't know it yet - was that he could not trust Merlin.

Because, no matter _why_ they had done it... how could you trust someone who had spent your entire friendship lying to you?

And how could you be friends with someone you had never known?

You couldn't. Arthur wouldn't. But he would be safe. And Albion would be whole. And though Merlin knew the day would come when he lost everything, he would rise with the dawn and he would keep his secret, no matter the lies it required.

And he would not realize, for another day, that there were two sides to the fickle nature of trust. Because it wasn't that Arthur was not _able_ to accept all that Merlin hid within his lies.

It was that Merlin didn't trust him to.


	3. And You Give Yourself Away

**A/N** This was written for a song-fic drabble over on Hearts of Camelot. It's set in 5.5, so if you're trying to read with no spoilers please run away now.

**Summary: **To protect his secret, and his destiny, and his King, Merlin gives more of himself away.

* * *

Merlin didn't often dwell on all he'd given up. A childhood filled with fear and secrecy, constant barriers between himself and those he loved most, losing friends again and again because to save them he'd have to reveal everything he hid... it was too much to carry, so he hid it behind gilded words of _destiny_ and _someday_ and _the Once and Future King_.

It had been easier while Uther was King, because Merlin had allowed himself to hate Uther. He'd never let that hatred dictate his choices (though he was tempted, many times), but having someone to blame for losing Freya and Will and Lancelot and his father... it had lightened the burden. It didn't hurt, to blame Uther.

With Arthur as King, the secret was still there, festering like a sore, and, without Uther to blame, Merlin was unable to deny that it was Arthur he was hiding from. Because he _didn't know _what his King would do, if he discovered what Merlin was. It hadn't hurt, to blame Uther, but blaming Arthur stung to the quick of him.

It hurt more to blame himself, but he chose to, because he couldn't blame Arthur and still have the strength to give away all the pieces of himself that Camelot demanded.

"So what should we do?" Arthur asked. And Merlin knew he couldn't tell him the truth, not if it meant putting his king in danger. Not even if it was everything Merlin wanted and needed and thought he couldn't live without much longer – because it was _killing_ him, being this alone. This was for _Arthur_, whom he didn't blame and he didn't hate (not even when he sort of wanted to).

"There can be no place for magic in Camelot," he said, giving another piece of himself away.


	4. A Thousand Lies

**A/N **Another Hearts of Camelot drabble! I'm going to try and write some longer fics for this series soon. :)

**Summary:** There were a thousand times when the moment was almost right to tell you.

* * *

There were a thousand times when the moment was almost right to tell you. I opened my mouth and stared at your profile as you looked for danger, or at your back as you tended some task, or at the lashes on your cheeks as you watched the ground – but I always closed it again, saying something stupid or inane or saying nothing at all because there was _weight_ to these moments, when we were almost on the edge of something that could change everything, forever.

I am not brave enough to break it, that silence. I hope you will forgive me this.

It will tear us apart in a thousand ways, to look our lies and secrets and deceptions in the face of them, to confront them and lay them bare. I do not think we can survive as we are once we look at each other and know everything the other has done, and is, and has always known. Without that buffer between us, I think the violence of our differences and our loyalty and our need will rip us to shreds. I am not proud of what I have learned of myself: I would rather you live my untruth here beside me than your truth somewhere else.

A thousand lies are in the silences between us. And we descend once again into darkness with nothing (and everything) left to say.


	5. Even if Only in a Nightmare

**A/N**: This is A/U for episode 12 of season 5. I am also warning you now for a major character death. I have also been told recently that I make people want to stab themselves because of feelings, so that should probably be mentioned. This was written for a Lyrics and Melodies challenge over on Hearts of Camelot, and it got out of control and ended up more than double the acceptable size. This is the full version, and a condensed version was posted there for the challenge.

**Summary**: Arthur pressed his hand against the wound on Merlin's chest, knowing even as he did that it was useless. He had seen Mordred's blade run the other man clear through. He was a knight; he knew very well how serious it was but... Not Merlin.

* * *

Dreaming of you won't help me do

All that you dreamed I could

* * *

"_Merlin, no, Merlin." His hands slipped over wet cloth, streaking red against his servant's skin as he frantically ran his fingers along Merlin's face. "Merlin!"_

"_I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. His hands grasped at Arthur's weakly, as he stared up at his king. There were tears on his face, panic and desolation and sorrow. "I'm so sorry."_

"_Stop, stop it." Arthur pressed his hand against the wound on Merlin's chest, knowing even as he did that it was useless. He had seen Mordred's blade run the other man clear through. He was a knight; he couldn't fool himself into forgetting all he knew of battle wounds and he knew very well how serious it was but he... couldn't. Not Merlin. With his free hand he pulled Merlin up onto his lap, trying to make him more comfortable. _

_Merlin let out a soft whine, and returned to his laboured breathing. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I just, I couldn't. I couldn't risk you'd send me away. I had to keep you safe. I just wanted to keep you safe."_

"_Merlin! Merlin, stop it. It's all right, just –" He looked around desperately for someone – anyone – who could help, but the battlefield was empty but for the dead and dying (and Mordred's body, flung far away and broken against the cliff face, except too late, too late for Merlin's magic – his surprising, traitorous _magic_ – to save him... but it could have saved him: Arthur would give anything...) "You'll be... you'll be just... just stop apologizing." He smoothed a shaking hand over Merlin's hair, biting a lip to stop the tears._

"_Listen, Arthur, listen. You're going to be... you're _already_ a great king. You're going to bring about a rein of peace and you'll unite Albion and you'll be amazing. I was only... only meant to get you here –"_

"_No –"_

"You_ are who's important –"_

"_You're important to me. Merlin. Please."_

_Merlin smiled. "Try not to be a clotpole all the time."Arthur laughed but it ended with a hitch, like a sob. Tears escaped against his will, one falling down on Merlin's blood-streaked cheek. "I don't regret a thing," he whispered, looking up at Arthur with his too-blue eyes. "I thought... all along that... you were going to die here, and I couldn't... I just couldn't. I'm glad it's me." Arthur shook his head, almost angrily. "No, I am. You're..." Merlin smiled, "my friend. And you're a...great king." _

_His eyes closed._

Arthur sat up gasping, face wet with sweat and tears. Gwen was up beside him instantly, her hands soft on his back as she whispered soothing words. His breathing slowed quickly and he buried his face against her neck. He was used to these dreams by now; they had been a nightly occurrence since Camlaan.

"He wouldn't want you to suffer like this," Gwen whispered in the silence, her voice breaking.

Arthur shook his head. He knew. Things were good. Camelot – Albion, Merlin's Albion – was prospering.

And Merlin was dead.

"I'm going to get some reading done," he whispered finally, kissing Gwen before he slipped from their bed. He didn't look back, not wanting to see her alone amongst their rumpled blankets, her face masked in sorrow and concern, but he had seen it other nightmare-filled nights and knew what was behind him as he left their chambers.

He walked down the hall to a small room he'd had set aside for his use nights like this, when he didn't want to keep Gwen awake with his mourning. He left the papers untouched on the table and stood at the window, watching as the sun touched the eastern horizon, the land in darkness yet under the lightening sky.

There were times he wanted nothing more than for the dreams to stop.

There were times when he couldn't imagine not seeing Merlin's face for a day – even if only in a nightmare.

Merlin was not there to guide him with his surprising wisdom, to guard him with his secret magic, to be there for Arthur when he needed someone to remind him he was human, but his vision of what Arthur could be...

Arthur would not let his friend down.

The sun broke over the horizon and its light spread across an Albion united in peace, where magic was practiced openly once more, the people prosperous and unafraid.

* * *

They would speak of King Arthur in legends for thousands of years.

* * *

(Arthur would dream of Merlin until the day he died).


	6. Balanced

**A/N **Another written for the Heart of Camelot's Lyrics and Melodies challenge. It made me listen to the song 'My Skin' by Natalie Merchant (really, truly a beautiful song, and that is where the italicized bit are pulled from) for approximately five days straight before I managed to write this, so that was a lesson in insanity. However, I have been on a bit of a hiatus recently, but finally managed to come up with something because this, so yay? This is canon-verse AU, set probably about the s3-4 hiatus. It may end up being the prologue to a longer fic, but we will see.

**Summary:** A careless mistake had revealed his secret. Arthur saw the magic – the_ lies_ – and wouldn't, _couldn't, _see past them. After the anger and accusations ran out, they'd been left in suffocating silence.

* * *

_Well, is it dark enough? Can you see me? _

_Do you want me? Can you reach me?_

* * *

Merlin was born to shadows and secrets, but he'd hoped _someday,_ someone would see him.

Not like this.

Arthur saw the magic – the_ lies_ – and refused to see _everything else _Merlin was. The bright future Merlin hadn't dared admit to wanting in recent years, as the future of Camelot ever-darkened, was lost. He didn't want Arthur's promise that his secret would be kept. He didn't want Arthur to avoid him, to flinch when Merlin reached to adjust his armour. Merlin didn't want this silence that dragged between them in the solitude of Arthur's chambers. Arthur refused to even glance from the table, though he had to know Merlin stood staring, waiting for his answer.

Everything was wrong, broken. Merlin had _dreamed_ of the light, but he'd always stood in Arthur's shadow willingly.

Merlin could've lived as a shadow, but if there was only silence left...

It had been so long, with only the promise of a future Merlin couldn't even imagine. He'd never known the world the druids spoke of; he was a child of the Purge. A world where magic was _free_? His magic was born of whispered warnings as his mother combed bath-wet hair, of fear, of the desperation of the hunted. His magic was secret. He'd known even as a child that the consequence of breaking his silence, of allowing someone to truly know him, was death. He didn't know the first thing about being _free_, and yet he'd sacrificed so much to return a world he didn't remember losing.

Making all of it worthwhile was the promise Arthur represented, the friend Merlin had found in him, all the glory and _brightness_ Arthur held with the same deadly grace with which he held a sword. Merlin had been transfixed by that light, had been glad to follow behind invisible_._ Merlin wondered if it wasn't as possible to get lost in the light, as in the shadows.

Perhaps he did need the darkness, perhaps he had lived there too long. Is that what Arthur saw, now? Is that why he turned away? But that was magic. You couldn't have life without the pain and fear of death. And Merlin... _was _magic. He was light and hope, doom and pain and laughter. It was only when the sun was gone that the expanse of space stretching into infinity was revealed. Was it dark enough to see him? Could Arthur understand?

"Look at me," he'd whispered into the silence that grew between them, eating away at all they'd shared, devouring the hope for a future Merlin wanted perhaps _because_ he'd never known what it was to be himself without being _afraid_. "Can't you forgive me? Just _talk_ to me, Arthur."

He needed the future Arthur promised, but he'd sacrificed too much already. If there was no _hope..._.

He would've stood in the space Arthur granted him until the end, but there was no space left; it had disappeared with a secret revealed, burned away in Arthur's anger, frozen under the weight of the _betrayals _between them.

They stood on the edge, Merlin revealed, Arthur looking away.

Merlin knew that if Arthur would just look up, he would see Merlin clearly for the first time. What he did then, if he rejected or reached out, it would topple them off the ledge they'd been walking so precariously, balanced on Merlin's secret.

But one way they would fall together.

And the other, apart.

Merlin waited.

* * *

..._Or I'm leaving._


End file.
